


When A Book Can Wait

by StormWildcat



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Caught, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Blow Jobs, Public Hand Jobs, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-10
Updated: 2017-05-10
Packaged: 2018-10-30 07:13:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10871712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StormWildcat/pseuds/StormWildcat
Summary: Very few things will get Dorian to put down a decent book in the middle of the night. A surprise visit from Inquisitor Trevelyan is one of them.





	When A Book Can Wait

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JaekLeone](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaekLeone/gifts).



> Dorian is one of my favorite characters from DA:I and he needs way more love! This is my first attempt at writing him and Max Trevelyan I'm I'm hoping I did them at least some justice. 
> 
> This is also a little gift for the Dorian to my Max. <3

Nestled in his little nook among Skyhold’s mediocre (albeit improving) collection of academic texts and fiction novels, Dorian prepared for a longer night than he had predicted spending in the Inquisition tower library. His mind was reeling and chest nearly giddy with excitement. Back rested in the luxury of the plush leather chair he requisitioned in the name of Pavus, he settled in with the newest book...set face down on the side table.

There were no words on those printed pages that could possible tear him away from the mage’s most recent focus; Maxwell Trevelyan. Surely the novel was becoming interesting to the Tevinter, leaving him to wonder where the tale would lead him next. But his Inquisitor demanded his full attention. The book didn’t have the same mischievous look set in smoky gray eyes nor nimble fingers that made quick work of Dorian’s belt. Therefore, it could wait.

As he shifted until comfortable, the amused mage watched as the Herald of Andraste, eager with desire, freed Dorian’s already stiffening arousal and carefully stroked. Not a word escaped the mage. Odd? Yes. Unexpected? Absolutely. But it wasn’t every day that the people’s symbol of hope appeared during the high moon on a mission of delivering pleasure.

Okay, a mission of pleasure _in a public place_. Without specification, it would be a downright lie. Their previous romps and stolen moments had all unfolded behind closed doors, an arrangement most familiar to the scandalous Vint. Even after they’d admitted their wants for something more, real, their passion remained in the privacy maintained by lock and key.

Yet there they were, tucked away in the barely hidden alcove of the library, where anyone could happen by, Dorian’s length exposed to the night fortress air and a shameless Trevelyan hand. He debated making a snide comment about propriety, but it was a risk. The unmistakable quality of his voice would echo through the tower, likely to alert the tireless research of Solas below or the vigilant ears of spymaster Leliana above. Either would admittedly be a mood killer, specifically Solas. So for the time being, Dorian kept his snark locked away and resigned himself to his out of the blue appointment with the mighty Inquisitor.

Gaze clouded with silent lust, Max coaxed Dorian’s arousal into a state of full regard of his carnal intentions. Convinced he achieved the level of firmness he sought, Max wet his lips and wrapped them around the sensitive head, tongue teasing the very tip and eyes still concentrated on is lover. The introduction of slick muscle and soft flesh pulled a short exhale from the mage. In tandem with his deliberately sluggish pumps, Max moved his neck in a controlled bob. Every few completed motions, skillful sweeps of tongue caused Dorian to shudder. A particularly lavish swirling around the head urge a hiss from the Vint’s teeth. “A-Amatus…”

A moan, barely audible even in the dead of night, vibrated around Dorian. The additional sensation forced his grip on the chair arm to tighten briefly, leather squeaking under the pads of his fingers. Some commanding digits nested in Max’s tousled hair with a thankful tug. Steady and not quite fast enough to push Dorian closer to the edge, the devilish rogue kept his pace constant. He corralled his man into a plateau of pleasure which the mage happily acclimated to, enjoying each moment. Content to receive the continuous barrage at its current speed and intensity, Dorian studied the scene with great interest.

The academic in him scrutinized every detail of Max’s handsome features as he worked. There was a wrinkle in his brow yet he still seemed plenty comfortable, at home even, on his knees before Dorian. Those impish eyes murmured volumes to Dorian. They called his name. Asked in a raspy growl how much he enjoyed being in Max’s care. If he melted every time light suction was applied. Whether it took all his strength to forbid his hips from bucking. Dorian could practically hear that seductive whisper he yearned, the same one he’d learned to love, hot on his ear once again, “ _I want you, love. Let me have you. Ravage you. Show you just how much you’ve crossed my mind_.”

His mental wanderings did more than enough to summon his climax closer. Faintly a pulse began to throb throughout his body, spreading and hastening as his breath sharpened and he relinquished all his remaining sanity and consciousness of his surroundings to the Trevelyan name. Sensing it was time to stretch the limits, Max picked up his stride, devoted every movement of wrist neck and tongue to Dorian’s gratification. He allowed a few quiet moans to scratch his throat, thrilled by the squirming Tevinter who appeared to be struggling with keeping discreet.

“Amatus,” he rasped followed closely by a pinched collection of Tevene profanities. Another pull at sandy locks signaled that he mage’s end was fast approaching. Max pulled his mouth away with a distinct pop. Night air rushed over Dorian’s arousal. His hiss melted into a drawn out moan as Max’s wrist doubled its efforts to compensate for his oral retreat. Swollen lips were pinned under teeth in a smug smirk. “Are you going to come for me, Dorian?” he uttered.

“Aahah.” A chill dictated the shaky response. Dorian sunk into his seat and started to shallowly thrust into Max’s grasp.

“Will you come for me, love?” Max insisted again, sitting tall on his knees and leaning forward. He practically housed the slouched Dorian, the Inquisitor’s shoulders and chest a human canopy as he probed for a response. His strokes never ceased. “Come, love. Come for me. I love watching you get off,” he grinned. Their eyes were locked, Max’s intense, calculating and primal, Dorian’s glazed over in wanton urgency. Tempting lips parted beautifully under raven mustache, the mage panted before finally speaking in a ragged caliber.

“F-Fuck yes, Amatus. Yes! I..I’m…”

“That’s it. I can feel you getting close.”

“A-A-Ama….tus-!”

On cue, Max hurried back to his first position and locked his lips around Dorian’s tensed arousal, taking as many inches as he could. Moments later he could feel his Tevene lover swell then release, sporadic eruption after another. White heat slipped down his throat as Dorian barely stifled an orgasmic outcry and sweltering groan of pure sexual fulfillment.

Every stiffened muscle and joint in Dorian’s being transformed from board-like into gelatin. Completely satisfied, he felt boneless in the leather chair. He smirked at the confident, smug expression on the Trevelyan’s features. “You…are…deliciously naughty,” he growled under his slowing breath. All the response he earned was a wolfish grin and wink. Dusted off and back on his feet, Max bowed as if he were a performer on stage at the end of a great play.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll be returning to my quarters.” A pointed pang of centralized discomfort made him grimace. “And I’ll be taking care of _this_ ,” the troublesome Trevelyan kneaded the demanding bulge in his trousers.

“You brought that upon yourself, darling,” Dorian whispered loudly, tone playful. Kiss blown in his lover’s direction, the Inquisitor disappeared down the spiraled stone steps towards his bedroom. “Well then, he can deal with that on his own for a bit while I finish this chapter,” the mage sighed, reaching for his novel.

Not even two words in, the Herald’s voice echoed from below. “Oh! Good evening, Solas! Nice…uh…night weather we’re having, eh?” Dorian’s palm crashed into his forehead.

“Good evening, Inquisitor. Shouldn’t you be in bed? Or shall I remind you of the Seeker’s contempt for such public displays of…fraternization?” The eavesdropping Tevinter sucked in a pained breath between clenched teeth.

“Ouch.”

“Well I do believe the time is late and surely we needn’t involve Cassandra in-“

“Psst!”

“Hmm?” Dorian rumbled. He scanned his surroundings but he spotted no source of the subtle call.

“Psst, Dorian.” That feminine rasp and melodious accent could only belong to one special songbird. Vacating his seat, Dorian crept to the wooden banister and peeked upwards. Two dark, large eyes spied him.

“Evening, Leliana.”

She chuckled. “Evening, Dorian.”

“Might I help you?”

“No.” There was an up-to-know-good quality to her voice. “I simply wanted to thank you for the show. Made my dull night quite entertaining.”

“Ah…yes, well you can thank our dear Inquisitor for that. Was all his doing,” he replied, certain that would end the odd conversation.

“Hm .Perhaps I’ll do just that,” the spymaster offered amusedly as she disappeared into the shadows of the upper tower.

“Wait, don’t do that,” Dorian corrected, peering into the shadows for the redhead. “Leliana….Leliana? Tch….damn.”

 

 


End file.
